


It Was All For You

by water_priince



Category: Free!
Genre: Band Fic, Future Fic, Implied Relationships, M/M, for the sake of this fic Rin and Sousuke are a few years older than everyone
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-04-16 18:46:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4636194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/water_priince/pseuds/water_priince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For a band embarking on their first ever tour, it's pretty obvious that something big was going to happen along the way. What they didn't expect was a scandal to arise, and all their troubles during their tour ensued solely because Makoto refuses to answer a single question: "Who do you write your lyrics about?" </p><p>Based on fan art by tumblr user <a href="http://lordzuuko.tumblr.com/">lordzuuko</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Stronger

**Author's Note:**

> As much as I hate to say it, I couldn’t find many band-like songs that fit with this fic like I wanted them too. All of the band’s music is written so that the focus is solely on the lyrics of the song, since a majority of this story is linked to lyrics. I will put a link to all songs at the end of every chapter, but please be aware that most of them will not be alternative/pop/punk music, so you kind of have to use your imagination to see and hear what the band is playing. Also, this fic will be based in America, since it is a place that I am most familiar with.

 

Close your eyes.

Imagine yourself in the middle of a crowded street, yet every voice, every click of a phone, every tap of shoes on concrete is far away, too far away to distinguish between the people speaking and which footsteps belonged to whom. There's a heated mixture of cologne, perfume, cigarette smoke, and sweat drifting through the air, but only the aftermath of it reaches your nose, leaving a curious smell to fill your head as you thank no one in particular that you are far away from the crowds. Your mouth is a little dry, and that's because you've been breathing a little too heavily to try and regulate your racing heart. Water is available in a bottle that is resting in your hands, but you know you'll need it in the near future, so you lick your lips and bear it for now. You feel something, a type of electricity in the air-- energy, excitement, anticipation-- yet all of it is seeping into you mind-numbingly slow. You're waiting for something to begin.

Haruka Nanase was waiting for something to begin.

It was always the most difficult part, these minutes behind the curtains before the show. He had been on that stage earlier today, rehearsing with everyone and testing out every little detail-- the instruments, the lineup, the timing, where the guitarist would move when this note was hit, where the lead singer would stand during the finale, every light, every step-- to make sure everything was going to go according to plan, yet the giant floor that stood beyond those heavy sheets of black was as intimidating as ever.

Before this big stage was their own, they had shared it by opening for a bigger name. Before that, it was small venues in little towns, 200 people tops every showcase, all crowded into a narrow space waiting for seven bands to play only a few songs. And before that, lonely coffee shops and bars that let them play for tips if they played something popular.

Every time, no matter the number of people or what they were playing, Haruka found himself waiting for the show to begin.

Was he nervous? Of course not. Crowds never scared him. Numbers never intimidated him. It was more of an annoyance of anticipation; he wanted to be out there now. He wanted to be playing with his friends, banging his drums rather than the railing of the stairs. He wanted to feel the ecstasy of being up there, of the music ringing in his ears because it is so loud, of the sight of seeing his friends have as much fun as he was having. The stage called to him. He had to wait.

It was only minutes by now. There was excited chattering behind him of the guitarist and the bassist. Echoing them was the ever familiar tapping of the vocalist, who was pacing mindlessly around as he fiddled with a microphone. Haruka chose, as usual, the calmer route of waiting: leaning on one of the spare amps he found back stage as he twirled his drumsticks in his fingers. Soon enough he would be handed a microphone as well and asked to take his position, where he would then walk the perimeter of the stage while being hidden by the curtains until he was standing directly behind his drum set. All he could do at the moment, however, was wait...

"Makoto, please!" The sound of the bassist suddenly raising his voice was enough to make Haruka jump a little (and almost drop his drumsticks. He has a great reaction time, though.) "You pacing around is making me even more nervous than before."

"Yeah," the guitarist jumped in and walked up to the pacing singer, "Rei's right-- relax a little! We've been on this stage before, yeah?"

"But that was a year ago, and Nagisa I..." Makoto sighed and scratched the back of his neck. This wouldn't be the first time the vocalist acted up like this; unlike the drummer, Makoto always had pre-performance jitters, even when he was a little boy performing for the middle school talent show. Yet no matter how much he panicked, how much he fidgeted, or how much he stumbled, the second Makoto's feet hit that stage all nervousness and unreadiness suddenly vanishes, replaced by the confidence and courage of a lion. And his voice, oh his voice was just as powerful as he seemed to be when he was center stage, harmonic and clean yet _loud._ You should have seen the look on some early interviewers' faces when Makoto turned out to be this gentle giant that still tripped over his tongue whenever he talked too quickly.

But they were still backstage, still eagerly awaiting their calls to action. Only minutes away.

"Think you can help him out, Haru?" Nagisa turned on his heel and was in front of the drummer before Haruka could even take a breath to say sure. He nodded, and look Makoto dead in the eye until the other stopped moving entirely.

He and Makoto were... something out of the ordinary, in the sense of how they acted around each other. They never need to second guess each other, or ever feel uncomfortable around each other, and it was as though the atmosphere around the two of them became something trusting and gentle. One could feel it in the air when they were writing music or play again or simply having a drink. They were true. True to one another and true to the world around them. And it has always been like this-- for years, Haruka and Makoto, the perfect balance.

"The lights." Haruka finally stated after what could have been ten seconds to ten hours of nothing but the crowds from beyond the curtains cheering. Makoto blinked dumbly at him, but in due time the vocalist took a deep breath and nodded back, a grin forming on his lips. Nagisa and Rei stood a few feet away from them, shrugging hopelessly and sinking back into their previous conversation. It’s clear they don’t understand how the two can link so easily, understand each other with a carefully picked pair of words.

And just like that, Makoto had that daring look in his eyes. Now he, too, was waiting exactly like Haruka.

" _Luminescence_ in T minus 60!" A man dressed all in black spoke into a microphone head set, and the four of them glanced at each other with these mischievous smirks plastered on their faces (minus Haruka, you could see it in his eyes, seldom his smile) before parting their ways. White "X"'s marked where they each needed to stand behind these massive curtains, and Haruka had gravitated to his with ease. Another man dressed in black jogged by him, handing him a microphone and wishing the drummer good luck. Only a minute away. Only a minute away.

There was a massive wave of loud clicks from beyond the curtain—the lights had just been dimmed and re-lit, letting the crowd know they had thirty more seconds. Following those lights was an uproar of celebration from the crowds. People were chanting, but there were so _many_ that Haruka couldn't distinguish the words enough to tell who they were calling for. But that wasn't Haruka's worry. The only call he cared about was that of the vocalist. His single cue, and he would be immersed once more in the world the stage had built for the band.

It's a matter of seconds now.

Counting failed him. Maybe the crowd was counting down? Haruka closed his eyes, listening intently to the sounds. The chatter. The footsteps. Imagining the true sound of being onstage never held a candle to that of physically being there. Only seconds now.

_“I wanna be like you..."_

Haruka gasped.

Finally.

As if the crowd could _be_ any louder, another massive wave of cheers erupted at the sound of a few simple notes Makoto hit. Haruka knew he was walking out there carefully, trying not to trip over himself as he made his way to center stage as nonchalantly as possible for him. And while the screams were all directed to the vocalist, it was Haruka's turn to join the stage.

_"I wish I could shine the way you do..."_

He was suddenly blinded by the lights of the stage. A sea of blues, yellows, and greens illuminated the stage and everything on it along with the main white lights, all of which were directed at Makoto. His head was held tall, and Haruka did not need to see his face to know that grin from before was still sitting comfortably on his lips. In the shadows of his friend, Haruka sat down at his drums, microphone held tightly in his hands. Not yet. But soon.

_"You turn a moment,_

_Into a movement,_

_You carry me through..."_

It was Haruka's turn to make his presence known. He began tapping to the beat of Makoto's singing, and another wave of cheers hit the stage, this time directed at Haruka. But they were drowned almost instantly. The bass, the beat, _Haruka_ drowned everyone but Makoto out. And whether it was because the sound system at the stage was over powered or because Haruka was just getting too into again, the drummer couldn't tell. It was just beat after beat after beat.

Of course, one does not need hands to play the foot peddle. Haruka raised the mic to his lips, breathing in as quietly as he could. It was another turn for Haruka, this time, for harmony.

_"You are the chosen..._

_It shows in the way you draw your life_

_Wish I had the strength_

_To hold you in my arms,_

_What would it be like?"_

Not unlike themselves, Makoto's and Haruka's voice overlapped each other as though they were being laced together with silk. Though the sole purpose of Haruka's harmonies was simple: to emphasis. Makoto had talent etched in his genes, but it was Haruka's harmonies that turned Makoto's vocals from something charming to something haunting, something gorgeous.

Slowly but surely the crowd was becoming mere white noise. He was already submerged in the sound of Makoto's voice, the boom of his drums, and the light that hid the fans so well that they resembled a painting-- gray brush strokes on a white canvas-- that when the third wave hit as Nagisa appeared on his left, Haruka wasn't even phased. Following Nagisa's entrance was the first strum of a chord, and chills were shot down the drummer's spine as the rift carried through the auditorium, completely shutting out the audience.

_"Give me your wonder..._

_Give me your wonder..._

_I wanna be stronger,_

_Stronger just like you..."_

The chorus coursed through Haruka's veins as clear as crystals, Makoto's voice now in full power and entrancing the world around him with every note. With one hand, the drummer placed his microphone into a vacant stand above him, close enough to catch his voice but far enough away that it wouldn’t interfere with his playing. With the other, he grabbed his drumsticks from his pockets. They felt heavy in his palms, still a little cool to the touch, and after rolling them around in his palms a few times, he took one in each hand and begun to play. His drums set a steady rhythm, one that was missing from music before, and with every movement of his wrist and arms and body, he strung together the pieces created by the three of them. And when the final piece of the puzzle, the bassist, had joined while Makoto was at his repeat of the chorus, everything fell into place. The crowd was no longer. The stage was no longer. They were in full swing in an unnamed place, where their instruments played hand in hand with their vocalist. They _were._

_"I wanna be like you,_

_I know I can shine the way you do,_

_Give me a reason,_

_I'm gonna believe in,_

_To carry me through..._

_I’ll be the golden,_

_I’ll prove to the world that I belong,_

_And when I have the strength,_

_You hold in your hands,_

_I’m on my own… "_

Haruka’s breath started to feel a little heavy. Thankfully the song was calming down, giving everyone a little rest before their opening would peak, and Haruka took this moment to close his eyes and blindly play along. He listened closely to Makoto’s hasted intakes of breath between notes, to Nagisa’s fingers dancing up and down the neck of his guitar, to Rei plucking his bass in time with Haruka. He felt the bass beating in his chest like a second heart, felt the floor beneath him shaking a little from the level of volume, felt the air become heavy as the beat started to pick up pace once more and Makoto’s voice becoming stronger once again. Everything was in motion, moving like a steam powered train along set tracks that continued to gain speed until… until…

_“Give me your wonder…!_

_Give me your wonder…!_

_I wanna be stronger,_

_Stronger just like you…!”_

This was his favorite part of performing. When everyone within hearing range of their music could feel their passion. When the brush strokes of the shadowed audience moved along with them. When the performers close their eyes and focus only on their part of the music with looks of determination on their faces. When the faintest of lyrics arise from the crowds, who had memorized every word of every song and was singing at the top of their lungs as if trying to sing above the band, but to no avail.

And when the chorus begins to lose it’s power note by note, when the guitar playing becomes less erratic and more subtle, when the bassist and the drummer toned down their rhythm to match their partners, when euphoria settles among the vicinity like fog on a still lake, he love it just as much. To Haruka, it was as though the ambiance was taking one last breath before opening its eyes and taking in all that is around. Soon the music faded from Haruka’s ears entirely, replaced by the gradual yet ever-growing applaud from the crowds. He could feel sweat on his cheeks already. It was going to be a long show.

“How are you all doing tonight!” Makoto yelled into his microphone after he caught enough of his breath and allowed the audience some time to settle down. Hollers and cheers and squeals came as a response, and Makoto beamed to the crowd before walking the stage a little. How he could continue to walk and talk as if he hadn’t been belting for the past few minutes was beyond Haruka, but instead of questioning it, he took a swig of his limited water supply and listened to Makoto thank the crowd and introduce the band. Haruka raised a drumstick at the sound of his name, grinning a little as the adrenaline rush settled inside him. Before he knew it Makoto was looking to Rei, then to Nagisa, and lastly to Haruka. He said nothing with his tongue, but a quick smirk and tip of the head was enough to tell Makoto was asking a single-word question: _Ready?_

_Always._ Haruka nodded, throwing down his water bottle and twirling the drumsticks in his fingers for good measure. Makoto looked back and the audience, and with another deep breath, the second song came just as easily as the first.

And the best part? Haruka knew he would continue to feel this energy for the next two hours of performing.

* * *

 There is a fact that always fails to cross Haruka’s mind whenever they are between shows: performing was only half of the job of a musician. Recording, talk shows, traveling, publicizing, voice lessons and sound checks and “Avoiding Paparazzi 101: How to Disguise Yourself Enough to Buy a Gallon of Milk without Being Mobbed at Your Local Grocery Store”—it all slipped (and was continually reappearing and disappearing) passed him when he agreed to join the band since none of it mattered much to him. He was rudely reminded of this fact two mornings after their first big concert, as their tour bus was parked in a parking garage underneath the city of Los Angeles. As _Luminescence_ made their way up the stairs of the garage into the overbearing heat of the Californian sun, Haruka found that they were heading towards one of the many towering sky scrapers, one that the drummer was told belonged to a television broadcasting company where they would be featured on a famous talk show and interviewed by a popular talk show host (Haruka rarely watched television, so the names of these people were basically meaningless to him.)

Interviews were the absolute worst, in Haruka’s opinion. Having to sit professionally in a leather chair while some stranger asked you questioned that would be manipulated when put into a magazine or online article was not the drummer’s ideal way to spend the short break they had between each concert, but Ms. Matsuoka had claimed it to be “great publicity”—they were on their first tour _ever_ , and nearly half of their concerts was _sold out_. How much ‘publicity’ did they need? — for the band, and had secretly booked the show weeks prior to their tour’s starting date. Though Haruka knew his words would be pointless against that of Ms. Matsuoka’s, especially since her words came directly from her brother.

Haruka had a feeling, however, that this interview was going to be a hell of a lot worse than any of their previous ones. It was probably due to the literal hundreds of fans standing behind rope chain fences who were screaming once the band came into sight, but there was something else that made him feel uneasy about the entire appointment. Maybe popularity was finally getting to his nerves? Possibly; however, there was little time for the drummer to even consider his options of how to go about easing this feeling growing inside his chest. As though someone had flicked on some sort of switch, the second the band members came into view of the fans, it was flashing lights from cameras, squealing and cheering of “They’re here! They’re here!” from the fans, and the occasional begging for an autograph from the band members.

Haruka had to shield his eyes from the light, annoyed and a little disgusted by them. It was a clear day outside; why did they even _need_ flash? And they were nothing like the brilliance of the stage lights Haruka revered. As the drummer did his best to hide his grimaces with a blank expression and eyes focused on the high-rise’s entrance, Makoto waved to the cameras with his trademark smile and promised the fans they would do autographs once they finished their interview. Rei was calmly acknowledging the cameras while fixing his glasses and hair to make sure they were picture perfect. Nagisa was grinning like a child and practically beckoning the fans to look over his way.

“It’ll be fine, Haru.” Makoto whispered as they passed through large glass doors and into a secure, quiet, heavily air-conditioned lobby. Haruka gave him an unsure look. _How do you know?_ He asked with no words. _Who knows what kind of questions they have in store. And you always answer so truthfully, despite Ms. Matsuoka’s advice...._ The vocalist sighed quietly, trying to give his friend a look of reassurance, but Haruka knew better. He has always been able read Makoto like an open book, and right now Haruka could tell Makoto was rather nervous about this interview, no matter how collected he may seem. There was little they could do for the matter, though, so telling each other little white lies were all the two could do for each other as they rode the elevator up a half a dozen levels. It would be over soon enough, anyway.  

Within the hour, _Luminescence_ had navigated their way up through heavily decorated hallways to the studio which the show would be hosted, introduced themselves to the crew of the show as well as the host, a lovely blonde women named Carey Gladwin, touched up their make-up and hair, and seated themselves comfortably (well, as comfortably as one could be on a set that felt like they were sitting in a upscale doll house with the way the “room” was furnished and lit) on a brown leather coach that stood adjacent to what can be assumed to be the chair in which Ms. Gladwin would question them in. Haruka laid back against the couch with a silent sigh, body still a little tired from the aftermath of their first real concert, and listened to the quiet hustle of camera men and his band chatting quietly among themselves.

What really sounded nice right now was a break from all of this to swim. Before this band was even a plausible thought, Haruka had esteemed swimming as though it were some kind of philosophy rather than your average pass time or sport. Though as he grew older, he grew tired of everyone in the clubs he entered and teams he joined pestering him about races and winnings that when his friends introduced him to the idea of a band, it seemed to be a rather nice substitute. Though the two could only be compared to when the band was performing, since the setting of the concert last night as well as the comfort of the water were the two places where he felt truly in his element. When juxtaposed, the two were complete opposites; the silence of the water was nothing like the liveliness of a concert. Though Haruka, along with a handful of his friends, had given up on trying to understand why Haruka loved both. He just did. In spite of that, he soon realized that it would be impossible to focus on both. He had to choose. Swimming soon became a gift rather than a daily occurrence as band practices grew in length and performances grew in number.

As he cataloged possible excuses to make a detour on their trip to San Francisco after they made it through this fruitless interview, Ms. Gladwin had made her grand entrance on set, causing the staff around to stir. A flurry of people began shouting “Positions! Positions!” which Haruka ignored momentarily. The couch was rather soft, actually, especially in comparison to their beds on the tour bus… A sudden elbow to his stomach, which judging by the laugh quickly follow by a scold came from Nagisa, had forced him to open his eyes and sit up straight.

“And we’re on in five… four… three…” A man who looked way to serious and a tad bit old for this job was counting down with his hand high in the air, the last two seconds of his count down silent, followed by a twirl of his wrist which probably meant they were rolling. Haruka glanced over to Makoto, who somehow managed to mask any and all nerves (seriously, how was he able to do that so easily?) and then to his manager, who was standing behind the camera man with the proudest of grins on her face. He had no need to see how Nagisa and Rei were acting at the moment, since he had a pretty good idea of what their faces said at the moment: Nagisa was overjoyed, just like always, and Rei had this mature, and maybe even a little boisterous, grin on his lips. They were the ones who loved the attention of the world, the ones who posed for paparazzi pictures, the ones who would answer any street side interview or sign napkins at restaurants where their disguises failed them and someone had spotted them. Haruka was indifferent about being on live TV, or in any setting of a musician’s life that didn’t involve playing music. Makoto, he… varied. Like for right now, he was calm against all odds, looking as though he was willing to take any question with a grin, but other time the poor boy would be a bumbling mess, stumbling with his words and pausing to think for long periods of time.

“Good Morning, Los Angeles!” the hostess greeted the camera with a toothy grin that Haruka couldn’t tell was genuine or not. Damn, these announcers were getting pretty good at their jobs. “It’s none other than Carey Gladwin here with the newly famous musical group _Luminescence!”_ Out of the corner of his eye he saw the one of the cameras pan left, causing Makoto to shift a little in his seat and make a little wave-like gesture with his fingers.

Maybe he wasn’t as calm as Haruka had thought.

“The band of four talented young men have had such an uprising in the past few months, and only days ago had a grand stage all to themselves for their _first time_! You guys have quiet the guts to go on tour in your early career, if you ask me. But I guess that’s why you’ve become so popular! Now, do tell us…”

Makoto’s worries had been for nothing. Twenty of the thirty minutes this woman had with the band were spent asking awfully generic and casual questions such as “how did you guys decide to become a band?” and “how long have all of you been playing for?”, which is understandable since the band doesn’t have many questionnaires to answer the simply questions like this, what with begin brand new to the top charts. Understandable and frivolous. Haruka was more interested in what the band would be having for lunch than in what the band was being asked. He was really hungry. Maybe that was the reason he was feeling so nervous before?

“Alright, boys, I have one last question for you before I let you go.” Ms. Gladwin crossed her legs and leaned on one of the arm rests of the chairs, eyes darting curiously between the band members. _This can’t be good._ “This one is specifically about your music.”

“Oh?” Makoto questioned happily, looking a little too easy for Haruka’s tastes. A lump grew in the drummer’s throat.

“You’ve said in the past that your band writes all its own music, correct?”

“Ah, of course! I write the lyrics, and Haru writes the music. Nagisa and Rei sometimes have to help with the harmonies and little things, though.”

Nagisa forced himself to muffle a laugh, which easily caught the attention of everyone on set. Ms. Gladwin looked suspiciously at him, whereas the vocalist just looked confused. “I’m sorry,” Nagisa said, the laugh still audible in his voice as he jumped into the conversation, “it’s just—gosh, if I could get these two on camera writing music, I doubt anyone would believe what they were seeing! There are some points where Makoto will just randomly come up with lyrics as Haru composes something out of the blue, and when you put their work together, it fits perfectly! Yeah sure, Rei and I like to jazz Haru’s music up sometimes, but it’s really the two of them behind the magic.”

“Is that so?” Ms. Gladwin smiled widely and clapped her hands together. “Simply amazing! But it’s Makoto who’s behind the lyrical genius, correct?”

“Yeah.” Haruka responded dully, since it was clear the question was directed toward Haruka. “I never touch the lyrics when Makoto hands them to me.”

“So it’s all Makoto… Then I guess this last question is more for him than anyone." Makoto stiffened beside him. _Okay, now this_ really _can't be good._  "Now, and I’m sure I’m not the only one who has noticed this, but it seems as though all of your lyrics seem to be _you_. That is, you and someone else.”

“Huh?” Haruka could feel Makoto fidget slightly beside him, almost as though a nerve that was never intended to see the light of day was stung just a bit. That… that is true. Haruka never paid too much attention to what the songs were actually saying. He was always much to focused on imagining what it would sound like when Makoto sung it to actually care about what the words were because it helped with composition. All of his songs _were_ written about him and someone else in the picture. Weren’t a majority of songs like that, though? A stream of Makoto’s lyrics ran through his head, but before he could make any logical connections, the all-too-peppy voice of Ms. Gladwin filled his ears.

“In all of your songs, Makoto, you use ‘I’ and ‘you’, almost as though you telling a story or _talking_ to that someone. So tell us, are you talking about one person with everyone song? Or is it a string of people who have affected you in the past? Maybe it’s a metaphorical thing?”

If Makoto had been placed in any other setting, Haruka knew that he would have been blushing up to his ears for being asked something so personal. I mean, yeah, Haruka was just as curious about this as Ms. Gladwin was, but he would have never asked Makoto about it. At least, not so bluntly.

Makoto ran a hand through his hair and stole a quick glance to his band mates. When the drummer looked over to Nagisa and Rei, they looked just as lost and confused as Haruka felt. No one ever questioned it. The lyrics were just something natural; they never needed to be explained. “To be honest,” Makoto shifted in his seat once more so that he was facing the hostess, much to Haruka’s disapproval, “I’m not clever enough to be metaphorical on such a level. So yes, I am writing about someone specific. A single, special someone.”

Ms. Gladwin gasped happily. Haruka knew that beside him, two baffled musicians were staring disbelievingly at their vocalist. Haruka couldn’t pin down a name for the number of emotions coasting through his head. This was the first he heard of this. How could he not have noticed? The more he thought about it, the more lost he became. Who could it be? How could Haruka not have _known_ who this person is?

“How _exciting!_ And I dare say romantic! You really adore this person, don’t you?”

“Y-yes, I do.”

“…And?”

_Oh please don’t._

"And?”

“Well you can’t just leave us hanging like this! Who is it?”

Makoto looked as though something stopped working inside him. He stalled, now not looking to Ms. Gladwin or to Haruka or to anyone. His eyes roamed aimlessly. Haruka felt his breath shorten in anticipation. What was probably just a few seconds of silence felt like hours in this space. Haruka wanted to know, too. Makoto never hid anything from him. He never hid anything from Makoto. And frankly, he didn’t want every living soul watching this program to find out who this person was along with him.

With a hesitant chuckle, Makoto smiled slyly and put one finger up to his lips. “It’s a secret.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Arty- "Stronger" ft. Ray Dalton](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WKuwLIkBQJ0) (genre: Progressive House, Electronic)
> 
> Please note that I take a while to write, so chapter updates may take a while!!


	2. Firestone

**Who Hides Behind the Lyrics? _Luminescence’s_ Lead Singer Keeps the Truth!**

**Lyrical Genius Makoto Tachibana Refuses to Tell Who He Writes About**

**A Dirty Little Secret: Who Could Be Tachibana’s Inspiration?**

**_Luminescence’s_ ** **Lead Singer Continues to Hide His Drive**

The deeper Haruka dug into the Internet’s gossip, the more lost and annoyed he became. Hundreds of articles and blog posts about Makoto’s “secret” had been posted in the last few days, yet none of them had any other news besides the obvious explanation of events followed by crude background checks that pulled up unlikely candidates to fit the title of Makoto Tachibana’s Inspiration. They truly did nothing to help the general public nor _Luminescence’s_ public image, but, most importantly, they did nothing to help Haruka. The drummer wanted a face, a name, _something_.

He had spent hours after the interview (and the maelstrom of angry calls from Mr. Matsuoka; he really wasn’t too fond of the way the media was reacting so goddamn quickly to the little stunt he pulled during said interview) silently filing through names and faces that could have spurred Makoto to write, but none of them were enough to really have an impact on Makoto’s life, much less affect him to a point where he would write a few dozen songs about them. Haruka had tried replacing the “you” with every possible name in a handful of songs—even his own— to see if anything would click, but the pieces refused to line up like Haruka had wanted them to. So, as a pitiful last resort, he clicked through article after article, fan page after fan page, even found a Makoto Tachibana biography as if it knew more about Makoto than Haruka did, but every person who had written anything worth noting had told Haruka things he already knew.

The most annoying part of this useless journey was that every article and web search came with more pictures of Makoto he found holding his fingers easily to his lips. Over the past few days, whenever fans or paparazzi were near, they would always ask that damned question of “who”, and Makoto would always respond with that same gesture as though it was a trademark of the sorts. If Haruka hadn’t known better, he would have guessed Makoto was mocking the crowds, but reality told that it was nothing more than a well-kept secret. Even the combined knowledge of these few writers could never hold a candle to Haruka’s knowledge of Makoto. So, if anything good came out of this wasted time spent browsing the web, it would be the simple fact that Haruka was the one who knew the most about Makoto, which lead to the only possible conclusion that could be conjured from this tiresome search: Makoto was the only living soul who knew the truth.

As the clocked continued ticking, their tour bus raced through California calm lands and Haruka’s patience begun to wear thin. Rehearsal for their second concert was just around the corner, and by this time tomorrow night they would be on this bus once more, after-concert-high lingering in their bodies as they caught their much needed rest. The thought of being onstage after this mess with Makoto had Haruka’s mind racing a million miles a minute. There was a tinge of excitement hidden somewhere in Haruka’s worry and doubt, because he really missed being on stage, but the looming _knowing_ that he was not the only playing to but also singing along with the lyrics that belonged to Makoto and his “someone” stripped all possibilities of getting a good night’s rest tonight.

The way Haruka was taking in all of this talk of a rising scandal was beyond his personal realm of comprehension. “This mess will blow over in due time,” Mr. Matsuoka had told them earlier that day after he had chewed the band up and spit them out. “Just keep up that steel wall you have around those lyrics, Makoto, and everyone will forget about this eventually.” And so Haruka knew the best thing to do would be to ignore everything having to do with these lyrics. They were apparently personal to Makoto—so personal that he could not rely on even his trusted best friend to hold onto the truth—and the drummer truly did want to let everything pass by unnoticed and uncounted for. He was Makoto’s best friend, nothing more, nothing less.

But what was a best friend supposed to do in a situation like this? Sit back and let his friend lie to him as well as the rest of the world? Or confront him about it, tread his friend’s territory unwantedly to learn who the hell was worth hiding this well? Haruka didn’t know. He wanted to say “So be it” and be done with this spiraling whirlpool of uncertainty, but he couldn’t get that single sentence out of his head… how easily it was spoken… _“It’s a secret.”_

He couldn’t let this pass. The two of them had so much history. They told each other everything; told every little secret, confessed to every white lie to the point where they _couldn’t_ hide things from each other without the other knowing. That’s what truly confused Haruka: he just never noticed. Why did he never notice? Ms. Gladwin made it seem as though it was the most obvious thing in the word, and everyone—Nagisa, Rei, Ms. Matsuoka, even _their stylist_ — admitted to noticing, just never thinking too much of it. He had reasoned with himself before that the lyrics just came so naturally that there was never a need to question who they were written about, but how could he really even say that when he had to look at and listen to those lyrics time and time again—even sing them!

He was so caught up in figuring out this puzzle that the sudden sound of feet shuffling made him almost drop his phone in surprise. His eyes darted from his screen to near pitch black darkness where the noise had come from, and after blinking a few times he could make out an ambiguous outline of a shadow that was slowly emerging from one of the bed compartments. A quick glance back at his phone showed the time of _2:16 am_ , and with it came a small and annoyed sigh. Tomorrow was going to be hell with this little sleep…

“Haru?” Even in its tired whisper, Haruka could detect that the one who had awoken was none other than the sole person he did not want to talk to at the moment. He saw Makoto emerging from the shadows of the cabins, rubbing away the sleep in his eyes before making his way towards the surplus of empty spaces next to Haruka. “Couldn’t sleep?” He asked through a smiling yawn as he took a seat.

Haruka hummed a blank response and went back to his phone, switching over to the _Instagram_ app that he had actually opened maybe twice before. Nagisa made him an account and followed a bunch of people, but Haruka hardly knew how to work the damned thing… the drummer knew better than to assume that Makoto wasn’t going to question his sudden interest in social media. He did so without words by looking over Haruka’s shoulder momentarily, which didn’t come as much of a surprise. Makoto was never one to pry.

Boredom set in quickly. Literal seconds after Makoto took his seat and curiously looked over Haruka’s shoulder, the phone was off and angrily set at his side.

“Nervous about tomorrow?”

 _That’s a hell of an understatement._ Haruka threw his head back against the back rest and slid down a little, looking up at the shiny ceiling of the bus with somber eyes. He could see his friend out of the corner of his eye fiddling with what looked to be headphone cords, easily untangling them and plugging them into his phone. As a dim light that emitted from his friend’s phone appeared on the ceiling, Haruka knew that Makoto wasn’t leaving anytime soon.

They had been in similar setting before; where silence sits quietly between them as Makoto attempts to make conversation, only to give up when he realizes Haruka doesn’t want to speak. No matter the time of day nor the situation or setting, the two would be locked momentarily in this comfortable silence until Makoto would reach for his headphones and play a song of his choice. Then, without any need for confirmation, he would hand Haruka one of the ear buds, and the silence would be broken only by the soft beats of whatever song Makoto had chosen. A world in which only Haruka and Makoto existed would soon be fabricated, since shared music would fill their heads, music only they could hear, and the rest of the world would seep into silence and eventually fade to nothingness. A world that they both felt safe in. And, as Haruka predicted, Makoto passed over one of the headphones which Haruka did not hesitate to take. Music soon filled his head as the two of them simultaneously relaxed deeper into their seats, stripping him momentarily of all worries as he relished in it’s slow, familiar beats.

“You can still listen to this song?” Haruka asked quietly, his voice almost heavy with repose. Time was starting to catch up to him, apparently. Makoto looked over to him for a second before shifting himself to be a little closer to Haruka, sitting back tiredly in a mirrored fashion to his friend.

“Mhm. I listen to it all the time…” Although it was difficult to see in the darkness of the bus, Haruka could hear the smile in Makoto’s voice, “It always brings me back to that little stage in Mr. Yamazaki’s bar.”

Haruka remembered that night fondly. Talking to Makoto before the show, freaking out when Kisumi revealed they couldn’t play their original music, how it felt when all of the eyes in that bar were on a no name local band playing one of a remix of one of the radio’s most popular track—it was as clear as day for him. It was their debut, essentially. Haruka found himself smiling at the remembrance. It felt like so long ago… it was even before the band had a name.

Eventually the music began to fade as the song ended and a new one began, and with it, the serenity of it all. Like a crashing wave against the shore line, realization of the irrefutable fact that Makoto was refusing to tell him something rushed into him. Makoto was still lying to him. Even now, even in their own little world he created just for the two of them using nothing but a song and a pair of headphones, he hid the truth. He tainted their unity—he had tainted Haruka’s trust.

Their world soon crumbled back into reality.

And Haruka hated it. Haruka hated how much he cherished Makoto’s friendship. Hated how much he loved these moments together with him and hated how _cruel_ Makoto was being right now to him. Haruka was so confused, less as to why Makoto was lying to him and more as to why he was reacting so violently towards the fact that he was being lied to. _Just let it be, just let it be…_ He kept on repeating such sentences in his head but all efforts where fruitless.

Makoto must have noticed something, like a sudden stiffness in Haruka’s posture or shift in his breathing patterns from relaxed to, well, unrelaxed, because he had moved closer to  the drummer and took out the headphone from his ear. Haruka could feel his friend’s eyes on him, probably looking worried, and soon enough he felt a hand reach over him, pulling him into a silent side-hug with Makoto lightly trailing his thumb in small circles on Haruka’s shoulder. And, as easy as everything was (or had been) between the two of them, the drummer accepted it, leaning into his friend’s chest and sighing. No need for words…

How could one be so gentle, yet so cruel?

“I…” Haruka pushed up from his position eventually-- after giving the two just enough time to build a steady silence between them-- and faced Makoto, his heart starting to race a little in worry of how he would respond. Those green eyes of his stared back in worry, tired and confused. “You should know.”

“Huh?”

“You should know exactly what’s bothering me.” Haruka’s voice came out cold and foreign to him. It felt as though any second now he would blow a fuse, and at _Makoto_ nevertheless. And he _hated_ this feeling of distrust. Makoto could see it, Makoto could read him like a fucking book as always, and for the first time Haruka _couldn’t do the same_. He didn’t know what to do with himself…“Tell me who you write your songs about. I want to know.”

That same delay reoccurred, where Makoto stalled momentarily as if trying to process Haruka’s question like it honesty needed to be processed. The drummer knew Makoto didn’t need to think—or maybe was he wrong about that too? Damn it all! They don’t talk like this much, and when they do, they both know it’s serious. One of them takes the stand of the “reasonable” one and settles the dispute before it gets out of hand-- but this? This was…it was the first time the air between them felt _filthy._ Unhealthy. Unnatural.

“Haru, I… I can’t.”

_Liar._

“Please, Makoto, tell me. You don’t have to—”

“I _can’t_. I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?” His voice was becoming harsher by the second. His words would soon become daggers if he wasn’t careful. Anger was starting to build on top of his confusion, and he felt nothing short of a lost child looking for his way home. He was sitting up straight now, almost ready to jump to his feet as if the stronger stance would help his dominance over the situation and force a comprehensive answer to the questions that started stacking on Haruka’s shoulders, each one weighing heavier than the next. Makoto rose a little, as well, his movements more staggered and confused that Haruka’s. The drummer could tell that his friend was having trouble maintaining eye contact.

“I swore to myself that no one… no one would know. And no one does.”

“Except you.”

“Haru, I really am sorry—”

“Is it one of your ex’s? One I haven’t met?”

“No, Haru, don’t—”

“Are you in a secret relationship or something? I wouldn’t be surprised at this point.”

“Oh, please!” The sudden rise in his voice sounded as though he had screamed at the top of his lungs in the silence of the dark bus and, honestly, if he had yelled that loudly it wouldn’t have made a difference to Haruka. It haunted him, and it would have haunted him either way. The room was now ablaze, the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. Haruka was taken aback. The boy rarely gets irritated, so even the simplest of anger looked as though he was livid in Haruka’s eyes. But he was not only was he angry—no, hidden amongst that annoyed snap was a sort of pain, almost. He sounded hurt; like how Haruka was feeling. And it was Haruka who had struck such a cord. “Haru, look, I can’t—I-I _won’t_ tell you! I won’t…  So drop it, alright?”

And suddenly they were no longer sitting in a dark bus with the California calm lands passing by so quickly that whatever visible color outside the window were twisted together. Instead, it was a high wire over a towering city. A lone raft in the middle of a deserted ocean during a storm. Two best friends fighting for maybe the third time in their lives.

Makoto suddenly looked devastated, as though he had shoved Haruka to the ground on accident, but with meaning. To Haruka… it felt as though he had. As that horrid tension begun capsizing, the vocalist stuttered slightly with a gaping mouth, eyes filled with instantaneous regret as he clearly tried to process all that had happened while also trying to mend whatever he had broken. Haruka had absolutely no idea what to do with himself or what was written on his own face. He was too damned focused on Makoto.

“Haru…I--”

“You said drop it,” Haruka snapped. He was a puppet to his emotions now. There was no point in even trying to control himself. There was a seething storm in his head and any judgement of his was clouded. “So fine.”

With that, Haruka left Makoto alone in that space and retreated back to his bed. He pulled the curtains as though they would shield him from the onslaught of whatever aggression was attacking him before retreating to the covers, face turned towards the wall and breath hitched. _What is with me?_ Haruka thought as he listened to the scoffs and sighs of Makoto from the other room. _Makoto’s in the wrong here… right?_

_Right?_

* * *

 

The crowds weren’t the same that night.

At least, they weren’t to Haruka.

There was an air that hovered around the drummer, one that his beats could not push away no matter how much he wanted them to. They practically demolished all other worries and doubts and fears that had been adulterating Haruka’s thoughts since last night in that dark bus.

The day was horrible due to Haruka’s sleep deprivation. He had seen the sunrise before sleep was able to carry him into the dreamscape, and although he was lucky enough to sneak in an hour nap between the band’s appointment with Ai and practice, he couldn’t fully shake off his drowsiness. However, there was no possibility that his lack of sleep was the cause of whatever weird air poisoned the stage. His leg was bouncing with energy (or nerves) and his heart was pounding with excitement (or nerves). All this lack of sleep really did was make the hours of waiting for the show to start more unbearable than ever.

The haze didn’t seem to be affecting the other band members. They all still wore shining smiles and moved vividly across the stage… especially Makoto.

At their first eye contact in the morning, Makoto had given Haruka a humble apology and a soft grin, one in which Haruka could not truthfully return. Makoto knew that it was not sincere, yet he still accepted it and moved on as though last night was nothing but a glitch in their system.

Of course they were human. Everyone had their little spats and disputes about stupid things. Sometimes emotions got a little out of hand and people said things they didn’t mean. Although they were rare, he and Makoto had their own misunderstandings, yet they all faded into nothing. They had never collided so violently before and nothing had ever left the two in a stalemate. 

What the fight actually felt like was an earthquake; so subtle in its arising, but when the plates crashed, everything came tumbling down. The surge went through the entire band and everyone could feel the tainted air between Makoto and Haruka. Even after the initial force hit and passed, the aftershocks of “why” and “who”, of the recollection of the _pain_ in Makoto’s eyes, of their childish reactions struck Haruka when he was off guard. Aftershocks that only he could feel for all he knew.

“Let me be truthful here” Makoto spoke clearly into his microphone, an audible pant in his voice as he tried to recover from their last song (Haruka cringed between gulps of water at the irony of the statement), “You guys have been so amazing tonight!” He held his arm out, gesturing to the hundreds of thousands of people who, in turn, screamed back with enough enthusiasm to jolt Haruka awake again. Haruka agreed. The venue was alive even when Haruka didn’t provide a heartbeat for the crowd to follow. “And I think you guys deserve a little treat before we head out. How about a new song?”

He turned on his heel and walked closer to Haruka’s drums that were seated near the back of the stage, ignoring the epic explosion of positive cheers as though they had failed to occur. Their eyes locked involuntarily and for a split they were both exposed to the other’s true emotions. Never before had Makoto been so close yet seemed so very far, the gap between them an ocean not five feet wide.

The lights around them dimmed, allowing another aftershock to pass through Haruka unwelcomely, and he saw in the shadows of the stage Makoto’s figure looking down at the floor. Guitar strings that mimicked icicles surged through the air and Haruka was thankful to hear the beginnings of their next song.

Another song dedicated to a stranger.

A spotlight shown on Nagisa as he entered center stage, strumming notes melodically as if it were a piano, each chord as crisp and clean as its predecessors. Haruka was reminded of the amount of time spent learning how to make an electric guitar sound so lovely and how they almost broke their guitar pedal by messing around with it so much. For a moment he closed his eyes and simply listened. He did not want to hear the crowds or see Makoto’s shadow anymore.

Haruka breathed in slightly when the Rei came in. The simplest of repeated sounds tied his and Nagisa’s chords together, even though Rei played a maximum of three notes in his set. Without opening his eyes, Haruka joined the two, adding a certain life to the song. Every beat danced with every note, every strike of the cymbal like a clap, and soon enough the drummer was thrown into the swing of things. The stage became a little closer to home.

It was a calmer song than most. Haruka felt like he was being tossed by the ocean’s wave with each beat, getting carried off somewhere far from the world of stage lights and far, far from the world of secrets. The sounds were something of chimes and lightning strikes, so soft and lively that one would have to stop and listen in order to enjoy them fully. However, he was forced to open his eyes when the time came to stop his steady beat, which allowed for Nagisa’s and Rei’s notes to linger like a sweet taste on the tongue. It didn’t take long for his focus to drift from the music to the vocalist whose eyes, now illuminated vaguely by the stage lights, were downcast and not… at Haruka. What was Makoto thinking? For once, Haruka didn’t know. Makoto wasn’t allowing him to know.

_“I’m a flame_

_You’re a fire…_

_I’m in the dark in need of light…”_

Only Nagisa was playing when Makoto started to sing, and even then it was just simple chords to give light to Makoto’s voice. He sounded just as beautiful as ever, and in this song his voice felt like a warm drink on a cold winter’s night. Haruka, in the few moments he had before he was supposed to give Makoto some back up, listened for what was probably the first time ever to every single note and syllable Makoto hit.

“ _When we touch, you inspire_

_Feel the change in me tonight…”_

Rei started to strum once again, notes facile in comparison to the vocalist’s talent. He and Nagisa were the key ingredients in the musical segment of this song, and they were the ones who underlined Makoto’s beauty.

Not Haruka.

And oh how beautiful he sounded. Caressing the crowd with this ballad of his, he turned his back to Haruka and walked closer to center stage, each step in time with each note. His hips swayed and one hand looked as though he were conducting an orchestra of his voice and his voice alone.  A peaceful little dance to a peaceful little song. Haruka watched in awe. Makoto was not alone on the stage, but he made it seem like he was. He wasn’t singing to anyone, but he _was_. Whoever he sang to… whoever he loved…

_“So take me up, take me higher,_

_There’s a world not far from here…_

_We can dance in desire_

_Or we can burn in love tonight._ ”

The crowd was only a quiet murmur as all music stopped momentarily. They had taken out their phones as pretend-lighters, making the stage brighter than ever. The audience didn’t look like stars, but rather a flood of fairy lights that set Luminescence ablaze. Makoto breathed in slowly, but loud enough for the microphone to pick up his breath. Haruka lifted his head lazily to reach the microphone and licked his lips a little to get ready. In an attempt to make sense of it all, to listen instead of hear, to understand instead of enjoy, he forced the lyrics he was supposed to sing to collide in his head with the ones Makoto had just sung.

And so they sung at the same time, but not together.

_“Our hearts are like_

_Firestones,_

_And when they strike,_

_We feel the love…”_

Each word felt like a weight in his mouth; heavy with both meaning and relevance. Haruka had read these lyrics on musical sheets and sung them time and time again, yet seeing Makoto dance around the stage, swaying to the beat of drummer and the guitarist as he sung with a voice of golden silk, gave Haruka a new perspective of things. The sole reason why he was so caught up in this mess was a surprisingly simple one: he never bothered to care about the lyrics. He just never noticed.

But now he realized what all the fuss was about; why everyone cared so much.

_“Sparks will fly, they ignite our bones_

_But when they strike, we light up the world._

_We light up the world...!_ ”

Makoto really did  adore whoever he wrote about, huh? Maybe it would be wise for Haruka to try to let it be.There had to be a reason behind Makoto writing these lyrics and keeping them secret from everyone. One so important that even Haruka stood little chance to understand—or better yet, to even know-- in the first place. Haruka needed to respect that and needed to learn how to cope with this secret, even if it meant taking on every aftershock of supposed-betrayal alone, for Makoto’s sake.

Makoto would tell him when he was ready.

Hopefully.

_“Ooh, Oooh,_

_Firestones…”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [**_Kygo feat. Conard Sewell- Firestone_**](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jbZusVDBf4A) (Genre: New Age, Electronic)
> 
> I am SO Sorry for the wait guys!! Probably should have planned this fic out a little better haaaaaa
> 
> Expect another delay for the next chapter... I'm so so rry
> 
> Oh, and if anyone was curious, I am on [tumblr!](http://water-priince.tumblr.com)
> 
>  **EDIT: 10-13-2015:** Thank you to that unknown commenter to let me know there was a huge fuck up near the end of the chapter. Some paragraphs got jumbled around while my friend helped me edit, causing me to repeat the same 6ish paragraphs-- the first unedited, the second edited. wowo thank you so so much <3


	3. This Light Between Us

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight note: there is a continuation error in this chapter. It’s a small error, but might end up confusing some people. Please do you best to ignore it—I will update chapter 2 sometime in the future to change the error.

“Are you sure we’re even allowed to be in here?”

“Of course! The law says that you can be under 21 in a bar when you’re performing!”

“…If you say so… I just don’t know, it feels weird—like I’m in one of those old films where the main character would go sit down and drink way too much because of a lost lover. And then the bartender would come up and give him advice and more drinks and so on.”

“Yeah um, I doubt Mr. Yamazaki would give you advice… or drinks.”

“We could always ask—“

“Nagisa.”

“I know I know…”

The small group of young men were gathered around a corner of the bar, chatting away excitedly as they readied themselves for the long night with sodas and coffees Mr. Yamazaki had provided for them free of charge. Haruka stood back, however, and tripled-checked his drum set—just to see if it was all in order. Surprisingly enough, it was, even with the smooshed up blanket in the bass drum and a raggedy cloth covering his poor snares. The drum set _had_ to be muted, though; because they were in such a closed environment that the drum beats would not only drown out the rest of the band, but they would also make it impossible for the customers of the bar to converse with one another. Plus they might crack a few wine glasses along the way. Luckily enough the sound quality wasn’t hindered by the bed sheets that invaded his drums though.

His drums were located on a stage no larger than a one-car garage, which, judging by the fact that they had only ever performed in a one-car garage before, was pretty amazing. Two second-hand acoustic guitars, one decked out with colorful stickers and the other spray-painted a shimmering royal blue, sat in stands on either side of his drums.  In the center of the small stage stood a microphone, already tailored to match Makoto’s impressive height. Haruka smiled at the thought of how they were about to perform for an audience (other than Makoto’s various cats) _for the first time_ , which probably was less than an hour away from now.

How they had gotten here was by a stroke of sheer luck. This whole band thing was never supposed to be anything big for Haruka—just a pastime with two of his good friends who could strum a few nice notes on guitars. The day that Nagisa brought Makoto into the group after having heard him sing in the shower was the day that the band became an official group, but it wasn’t until after Rei had uploaded a video of their performance that they made their “debut”.

Though their true “debut” only happened because of a rich boy named Kisumi who fell in love with this no-name band he just so happened to find while browsing the vast archive known as the internet. Kisumi had messaged Rei online via social media, asking when their first concert would be held, and when Rei responded with “ _We haven’t begun thinking about going that public just yet,”_ Kisumi offered them a chance to perform in a local bar owned by Mr. Yamazaki.

“ _See_ ,” Kisumi messaged, “ _heres the deal man my father is great friends with the owner and bc of that im pretty close with the owner myself :) ive already talked to him and he said u were welcome to perform as long as it was free, like, not even tips are gonna be allowed :P but its still a live venue!! i can totally invite all my friends!! itll be fun ! <3_”

Rei, who was for the most part in charge of anything having to do with the nameless band and the public, had gladly accepted the offer, and the instant messaging lead to the exchanging of phone numbers, which lead to the handing-out of addresses, which eventually lead to the group now enjoying themselves at the bar before their performance.

There was only so many times one man could check a drum set within a set number of hours, and after ensuring that his lips could reach the microphone when he sat down to play, Haruka joined the lot of them at the bar. Nagisa and Rei were sitting nearer to the end of the bar, happily joking with one another about something Haruka didn’t dare want to understand. He decided to take a seat next to Makoto, who was sipping club soda and bouncing his leg so quickly that it was causing the bar to shake slightly. Poor kid was never too good with crowds…

“Makoto.” Haruka said calmly, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder in an attempt to ease the other’s stress. He felt Makoto flinch under his touch, but the vocalist recovered almost instantly, looking relieved to see Haruka after letting out a staggered sigh.

“I know, Haru, I know…” Makoto offered an unsure smile before glancing over to the stage. Fold-out chairs had been set up in rows, maybe twenty or thirty of them, in front of the stage, some of which were already taken up by ten or so teenagers. Haruka could pick out a certain head of pink hair that left a sour taste in his mouth whenever he had to speak his name from the group, chatting away excitedly to his friends. Something about this “Kisumi” character made Haruka uneasy…

All thoughts of the pink-haired kid aside, Haruka focused more on the way Makoto looked at that stage, dread oozing from his green eyes.

“Have you ever been on stage before?” the drummer asked, doing his best not to laugh when all he got was a somewhat-terrified glare from Makoto that screamed _Are you kidding me, Haru? “_ That’s what I thought…” Haruka shifted in his seat a bit and rested his chin on his palm as he looked at Makoto again. “You know, before you joined the band, Nagisa forced me to perform in our middle school talent show with him and Rei.”

“Ah, I remember him telling me that.”

“Well, that was my first time on a stage.”

“But you weren’t a nervous wreck like I am right now.”

“Hmm,” Haruka smirked and stole a sip of Makoto’s drink, “for the most part. But I remember standing up there like it was yesterday. The thing is, when you’re up there in the middle of the stage… you’re taken away.”

“Huh… wait, what? What does that even mean?” Makoto straightened his back and looked to Haruka, confused. Haruka did the same, turning this chair so that he was facing his friend head on.

“It’s… it’s kinda…it’s like--” Haruka struggled to find his words.

“Swimming?”

Haruka looked at Makoto with the full intent of glaring a hole through the vocalist’s smirk, but he found that Makoto wasn’t smirking at all, rather he was genuinely grinning with a look in his eyes that made Haruka turn away with a flushed pout.

“Somewhat. It more like being engulfed by the brightness of it all. Those stage lights are so bright, but instead of blinding you they… It just _drowns_ you. It’s all you can see-- to a point where it doesn’t matter where you look, all that’s there is light.”

“I see…” Makoto took back his drink and traced his finger around the rim, clearly not convinced. Haruka was never really good at giving advice. Haruka swiveled his seat to face the bar once again, leaning on it with crossed arms. Makoto sighed, obviously frustrated. “I don’t know, Haru. These lights aren’t the stage lights of our school’s auditorium. They’re weaker, a-and I’m not too good with crowds, and--”

“Then focus on us.” Haruka said without looking up.

“’us’?”

“You’re in a _band_ , Makoto. You’re not up there alone. Just focus on the music. Trust me, when you get up there, with all that light, you just have to let everything around you dissolve into nothing-- until all that’s left is the light between us. Until everything is light."

“The light between us…”

“You’re not clever, Haru!” the interruption caused the two of them look up to find a cheeky grin coming from Nagisa, who was at the corner of the bar with Rei, sipping happily away at a shirley temple. Haruka shrugged it off, giving him a small smile.

“I wasn’t trying to be.” he replied as he stole yet another sip of Makoto’s drink. The vocalist chuckled a bit, running a hand through his own hair as he eyed Haruka with a gaze that Haruka could simply not name. _Thank you,_ they said.

_Don’t mention it._

“Wait,” Rei jumped into the conversation, moving from his seat next to Nagisa, soda in hand, to stand a bit closer to Makoto. “You’ve never been on a stage like this?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘never’” Makoto scratched the back of his neck, “but I haven’t sang or performed or anything like that on a stage before, no.”

Rei fixed his glasses and rested a hand on his chin, clearly in deep thought. “Then what are your lyrics about? If they aren’t stage lights, that is…”

“Well, duh!” Nagisa joined the three, using Makoto’s shoulder as an armrest as he flipped his bangs back in a matter-of-factly manner. “They’re rave lights!”

“Makoto doesn’t rave!” Rei looked appalled, voice cracking a bit as he flicked his gaze from Nagisa to Makoto then back to his giggling, blonde friend. Haruka did his best not to laugh too hard as Makoto looked away from everyone in a blush.

“As far as you know!”

“They aren’t rave lights, Nagisa” Makoto sighed.

“Oh! Oh! I know I know! It’s sunlight, isn’t it?”

“But that isn’t very logical, since it's talking about dancing, too, if I remember correctly…”

“Hmmm… flashlights?”

“Nagisa, please.”

“ _Disco lights!”_

Makoto covered his mouth, a loud laugh threatening to escape through his fingers. “You guys are horrible guessers.”

“Ah!” Rei hit a fist into his palm, then pointed to Makoto knowingly. “It’s a metaphor!”

“Huh? No way!” Nagisa moved to nudge Rei on his side a bit. “That can’t be it.”

“Of course it is! It’s the only conclusion that makes any sense.”

Nagisa and Rei looked to Makoto with wide eyes, clearly begging for an answer that will decide the winner of this pointless argument. Makoto put his hands up in defeat, looking away from the curious band members. “You got me. It’s a metaphor.”

Rei pointed victoriously and mockingly at his fellow guitarist, slowly seeping into a ranting explanation to a clearly confused Nagisa who was obviously upset over his ridiculous defeat. Their attention seeped away from Haruka and Makoto, the former whom raised an eyebrow at the vocalist.

_Liar_ he gestured, a somber smile on his lips.

_I know_ was all Haruka could read because Makoto just smiled and took back his drink. “We should get on stage soon, don’t you think?”

Haruka hummed in agreement.

Soon enough Nagisa and Rei settled down with their guitars slung over their shoulders, testing out notes to tune their instruments. Haruka tested out a few beats on his drums himself, a little upset at the fact that his fateful booms were now muted to non-triumphant thumps. Makoto was sitting on the side of the stage that was hidden from the crowd, his phone trembling in his hands as he looked at something on its screen—presumably lyrics to their song.

“Makoto…” Haruka sat up from his seat and placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder once again. The obviously-nervous vocalist almost dropped his phone, yelping at the touch. He looked to Haruka, a smile exerting fake-confidence hastily plastered on his face. “Makoto” he repeated, kneeling down to match Makoto’s gaze. “The lights. Remember the lights.”

“The lights… right.” Makoto looked back to his phone, mouthing the lyrics. Unconvinced, yet again.

“Focus on us.”

“Focus on us, focus on us…b-but what if—“

“Then focus on me.”

“Huh?”

“Focus on my playing. The bass is constant after the first measure of the song. I’m playing to your lyrics.”

Makoto was speechless, which was enough of a response for Haruka. If he let that thought turn in his head a few times, Makoto would be ready for this small concert.  With a victorious grin, Haruka stood up and took his seat at his drum set once again, impatiently waiting for Mr. Yamazaki to give the group the signal to start for the night.

Not even a minute after Haruka repositioned himself comfortably in front of his drums, Makoto was standing up and fixing his shirt. The drummer watched as Makoto shoved his phone into his back pocket and made his way to the center of the stage where the mic stood proudly. Makoto looked off into the distance, and when Haruka traced his gaze he found Mr. Yamazaki with a thumb raised into the air. Haruka felt a wave of adrenaline channel through him without warning.

“G-good evening everyone.” Makoto stuttered into the microphone, voice sounding weak as it traveled through the venue. With his words came silence from the audience, which, to Haruka’s surprise, had doubled in numbers since the four of them had gotten on stage. This was bad. If Haruka could see the crowds and Mr. Yamazaki as clearly as he could now, it meant that Makoto’s assumption about the lights being too dim was right. They were barely enough to illuminate the band in subdued shades of orange and pink. “My name is Makoto Tachibana, and behind me are Rei, Nagisa, and Haru, and tonight we are, uh… going to perform some originals for ya.

“Before we begin, I’d like to take a moment to thank Mr. Yamazaki for hosting us tonight” Makoto gestured to the tired-looking man behind the bar, which lead to surprisingly enthusiastic applause (the loudest, of which, came from a certain pink-haired groupie in the front row). Haruka noticed a shift in Makoto’s posture, one that showed a little more confidence than before. Of course his knuckles were turning white from clenching the microphone a little too tightly, but it was still an improvement from literally seconds ago. “And I’d also like to thank Kisumi Shigino for inviting us to perform in this beautiful venue tonight.”

Another round of cheers came from the audience, and with it, an even more confident posture from the vocalist. Haruka couldn’t help but sigh in relief.

Makoto stepped away from the microphone as the audience calmed themselves, turning a bit to nod his head to Rei, then to Nagisa, then to Haruka.

_Focus on us. Focus on me._

_I will._

“One, two, three, and…” Makoto counted under his breath, tapping out the rhythm with his hand on his thigh. Suddenly, Haruka was no longer on stage.

With a single chord, Nagisa had entranced Haruka in the performance. Notes danced through the air from both guitarists and began filling the room. Each proceeding note decorated the atmosphere in song, and each sound ricocheted off the walls in beautiful acoustics. Each chord chilled Haruka with choruses that sent goosebumps down his spine, and even though they had played this song tens of hundreds of times before, the drummer couldn’t help but feel like he was listening to this song for the first time.

With the repeat of the stanza came the bass line, and Haruka eased into the song like lovers into each other’s arms. Rei began to harmonize with Nagisa, and those notes began to waltz into Haruka’s ears. Another softly-played chord sang out of the guitars, and with it a small moment of silence.  There was the quietest intake of breath from Makoto, and it all truly began.

So this is what it felt like…

_“You and me, we’re just believers,_

_Believing what we hold_

_But sometimes we fall to pieces_

_In the dusk…”_

Makoto’s voice was eerily weak, but Haruka could tell it wasn’t because of nerves. He always sang the first part of this song quietly during their practices; he does it to tease the audience, to give them only a small taste of the succulent treat that was to come.

“ _So we should dance like this forever,_

_We’re safer on the ground_

_When a million lights surround you_

_And you’re moving to the sound…”_

Nagisa and Rei started strumming a little harder, Haruka began playing a little louder, Makoto’s voice was getting a little stronger and the audience was being drawn in with every waking moment and movement. Makoto’s fingers curled around the microphone loosely, his figure almost glowing in the lights.

“ _Don’t waste another moment_

_It’s waiting for you now_

_So dive in this new beginning_

_Let the colors show you how…_

Haruka closed his eyes, licked his lips, and started to blend with Makoto’s voice. That was the last little push he needed to be taken away… if tonight was successful, there would be bigger stages. More audience. More time to play with Nagisa and Rei.

More time to sing with Makoto.

“ _I would take…_

_This light between us!_

_Keeps me breathing through the storms_

_My head above the crowds_

_Can you see?_

_This light between us!_

_So come a little bit closer now_

_It’s in our eyes…”_

Everyone was in full swing. Whether or not “everyone” included the audience was rather unclear, at least to Haruka. But it didn’t matter. He just wanted to play and to sing and to be there with his friends. They created something. Haruka never realized that music could be so enthralling.

_“We’ll take a ride outside together_

_The streets are lined with gold_

_And where the good become the wanted_

_Not the soul…_

_Don’t waste another moment_

_I’m waited for you now!_

_So dive in this new beginning,_

_Let the colors show you how…”_

_***********_

_“I will take_

_This light between us…_

_Keeps me breathing thr—“_

_“Do you see what you’ve started?”_

_Haruka halted his playing, causing him to be forcefully returned to the stage as he painfully collided with reality in a flurry of sudden stops of sounds. He raised his head to face the audience, where the outburst had clearly come from, to see Kisumi standing up on his chair, his brows furrowed as he pointed to center stage. “You’ve created a mess of the music world—all eyes are focused on you!” he said, his voice…deeper. Older. It was off. What happened to him?_

_“There’s no way the_ _entire music world is focused on me.” Makoto shifted on the stage, pulling away from the microphone slightly with his head turned towards Kisumi. His voice wasn’t being picked up by the microphone even if it should have been, yet he sounded much closer than he had before… clearer, crisper. His voice, too, seemed different. Off..._

_“Oh yeah? Then why are you on the cover of, not one, but_ _three teen magazines? Why are you the top article when I search for the band on the internet? Why are you being talked about on daytime television when you’re not even being interviewed?”_

_“Mr. Matsuoka, please try to understand--”_

_Haruka felt the stage below him start to shake and rumble, but no one else around him seemed to notice. The drummer tried to stand up and get out of there, but he lost his balance and fell onto a seat of some sort, breath shorted and hastened. He opened_ _his_ eyes in a panic to see the shiny ceiling of the tour bus. His breathing was hard as he sat up a little too quickly, the brightness of the late-afternoon sun intense and blinding. All colors were super-saturated for a second or two, and it didn’t help that Haruka was facing the giant windows, curtains drawn and freshly cleaned. The drummer groaned and massaged the bridge of his nose, hating how obnoxiously lit the bus became in the oranges and reds of the setting sun.

“Makoto.” Haruka snapped his head up to see the face of his producer, Mr. Matsuoka, looking beyond pissed off at his friend as he stood in the center of the bus. Haruka followed his gaze to see Makoto, who was spruced up in a button-down shirt and a black tie, sitting cross-legged in the seat across from Haruka. His green eyes, almost glowing in this somewhat-angelic lighting, looked softly at Haruka for a literal second before fixating themselves on the red-haired man before him. Nagisa and Rei were nowhere to be found. What was Haruka doing there? “Don’t you hear what these people are saying?”

Mr. Matsuoka turned his head to the small television that sat high up in the corner of the bus and pointed with a remote he held. Haruka’s gaze trailed the gesture to see a paused screen of a talk show, the name of the show blanking in his head. A familiar blonde women was sitting in a big chair along with another lady whose dark hair was tied back much too tightly. One click of the remote brought the figures to life on the small TV, and Haruka became instantly shocked and disgusted with what he was witnessing.

_“…Breathing through the storm,_

_My head above the crowds…”_

The song sounded so distant and foreign when it came from that tiny television. Haruka could make out the music video to the song playing behind the two women, but the video melted into the show’s logo and the camera panned out to show the women sitting all-too-happily in their chairs.

_“As you can see here, even from the very beginning, Makoto was writing about this mysterious someone!”_ the blonde women—Ms. Gladwin?—said with an almost forced smile. Haruka felt a weight in his stomach.

_“He really is a talented writer, isn’t he?”_ the other said, covering a grotesquely-fake giggle with a pampered hand. _“And we, as the audience, know absolutely nothing of the person he writes about, right? Not their eye color or how tall they are or what their voice sounds like; hell, we don’t even know their gender! Sometimes I find myself wondering if this person is even real...”_

_“Well, they’ve gotta be! Makoto told me himself. It’s someone he cares for; someone really special to him!”_

_“Ah! Someone that he loves!”_

_“Precisely!”_

Haruka let out an angry sigh, his body unwillingly tensing at the word ‘love’. Mr. Matsuoka, thankfully, turned off the television altogether, looking once again at Makoto with a deadly serious expression. “The press, your fans, probably half of this damned country have been flipping their shit since you released that love song of yours. May I remind you that I told you that that was a bad idea?”

“You said it was a bad idea at the very beginning of the tour, though. And, well…” Makoto scratched the back of his neck and tore his eyes away from their producer to look at the ground, the walls, seemingly anywhere except either of the two men before him. “You also said any publicity is good publicity... right?”

There was a second or two of uncomfortable silence. Haruka felt a lump in his throat. Something was off about the vocalist.

Makoto wasn’t apologizing.

“You ignorant shit.” Mr. Matsuoka threw a hand on his head and turned on his heel to pace the floor a little. As his palm drooped down his face, fed-up red eyes darted to Haruka and his frown fell a little lower. “Glad to see you’re awake, princess.” He sighed. “Just in time to leave for tonight.”

Haruka scoffed and stood up. How long had he been sleeping? Why was Mr. Matsuoka in their bus? The drummer rubbed his aching head to try to recollect what had led to these events. Haruka hadn’t been sleeping well these past few days. He kept having restless nights after restless nights. It’s a secret.

They had performed four more times in two more cities since Luminesces released Firestone—so about a week? They were in… Seattle, Haruka believed, and last night they had preformed to one of their largest crowds ever. It was such a big turnout. And now, the band had something to do tonight… what was it again? Not another concert. Haruka looked down to see that he, too, was adorning the semi-formal attire of a white button up that was a bit wrinkled due to the awkward way he was napping on the couch. Tonight was a party. Right. Kisumi’s party… that rich asshole was denied an after party for the concert last night by Gou, so he decided to host what he was calling a day-after-concert party or something idiotic like that at some fancy hotel. That’s probably where Nagisa and Rei were.

The drummer looked to his producer, who had gone back to facing Makoto in order to nag him some more. Just when Haruka thought the man would yell again, Mr. Matsuoka sighed and pulled out his phone, a look of defeat in his features. “You’ve gotta take this seriously, Makoto.” He went closer to the vocalist and shoved the phone into Makoto’s face, his expression deadly serious as Makoto carefully took the phone out of the other’s hand. The feeling of fear crept through Haruka’s body as he watched Makoto’s expression change from that of confidence to that of dread, eyes growing wider the longer he held the phone.

“The paparazzi are getting desperate for answers.” Mr. Matsuoka explained in a dark tone. Haruka wanted to see whatever was on the phone. Scratch that, he wanted to rip the phone out of Makoto’s hand and toss it out the window. “Gou sent me these earlier today—she got them before they went public, thank god. But sooner or later she and I aren’t going to be able to stop these from being leaked. We’ll have a scandal on our hands about you and someone being together before you know it, whether or not it’s true…”

“Then let them get desperate!” Makoto barked, voice cracking, as he pushed the phone into Mr. Matsuoka’s chest and stood up, starting to march away from his producer. “They won’t find out the truth anyways--”

Makoto once again seemed to be looking everywhere but at Haruka and Mr. Matsuoka, only this time his eyes landed on Haruka within seconds, clearly against his will. With this look came a loss of voice, and Haruka saw just how naked and exposed he seemed, emotions that he was trying and failing to hide away  spilling from those green seas.

_Tell him._ Haruka was started to believe he was the one getting desperate.

_I won’t._

_Then tell me._

_I can’t._ Makoto blinked angrily, fighting away something. “I’ll see you guys at the party.” He snarled under his breath, the tone alien to Haruka’s ears. He continued to march through the bus and out the door, passing Haruka fast enough to send a wave of uneasy air flowing through Haruka. Makoto was in so much pain.

Haruka, furious at whatever the hell was on that damned phone, looked at Mr. Matsuoka, wanting to burn a hole through him for making Makoto suffer like that, but he forced himself to cease when he saw that his producer’s head was not raised. Instead, Mr. Matsuoka’s red eyes were directed at the phone, desolate of anger. Haruka stepped a bit closer out of curiousity to see only remorse in his expression. Haruka swallowed loudly, which caused Mr. Matsuoka to look up at the drummer.

“I’m sorry, kid.” Mr. Matsuoka sighed, opening his suit jacket to put his phone away. “The press got some photos of Makoto that aren’t… well, helpful, I guess you could say.”

“What… do you mean?” Haruka’s voice was tainted with strain. Where had Makoto stormed off to? What were the photos?

“They’re photos of Makoto just… being with people. I mean, with context they are just photos of Makoto being friendly, but having pictures of that guy hugging Gou, falling asleep on Rei’s shoulder, sharing ice cream with Nagisa, his arm wrapped around your shoulder tightly, so on... the press will twist all of our words into money-making bullshit. And they’re all photos of you guys in private situations, meaning they’ve started disguising themselves, and-- hey, where are you going?”

Haruka wouldn’t let him finish. He was horrified at the thought of these photos. Could they really as scandalous as Mr. Matsuoka described? Maybe. Whether or not that was the case, they outraged Makoto. Haruka didn’t want to see them.

He hastily grabbed his phone and wallet from his bed, ignoring Mr. Matsuoka’s continuous questioning, and he was out of the bus and running before his producer could tell him to wait. He saw Makoto walking around the corner of a building, but by the time Haruka had retraced Makoto’s steps, all Haruka could see were revolving doors spinning on the opposing side of said building. A quick glance upwards revealed that the he was in none other than the location of that brat’s party.

Haruka sighed angrily and swore under his breath as he shook his head before rushing to the doorway. He never wanted to attend this party. It gave him an awful vibe that something was going to go very, very wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Armin van Buuren- This Light Between Us- Unplugged ](https://youtu.be/pA7WR_Jw_Mg?t=36)   
>  [ Armin van Buuren- This Light Between Us- Original ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7I0GAra6MJo)
> 
>  
> 
> I want to apologize heavily for the delay! I had awful writer's block, and it didn’t go away until late January… hopefully it won’t take me another 5 months to write out chapter 4. Sorry again!! 
> 
> I also want to apologize for the lack of band-like songs… most of my music is EDM or Indie, and these lyrics fit so well,,,, luckily I found a somewhat-acoustic mix of the song. 
> 
> For those who didn’t catch the error, in the previous chapter I had written that This Light Between Us was not an “original” Luminescence piece, and that, according to chapter 2, the band was supposed to be playing an acoustic remix of a popular song. I originally planned for that to be the case, but when I asked my friend about it she said it would be better for This Light Between Us to be written by Makoto.


End file.
